


Double Chocolate Chip Frappuccino

by KodaOfHeart



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Canon Autistic Character, First Meetings, Fluff, Humanstuck, M/M, Meet-Cute, Nonverbal Dave Strider, One Shot, POV Dave Strider, and how many times can i make a character blush, how many times can these boys hold open a door, my friend makes a cameo, turns out a lot of times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23948647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KodaOfHeart/pseuds/KodaOfHeart
Summary: When Dave Strider decides to walk into this particular Starbucks, he didn't expect to meet a cute barista who knows how to talk to him in sign language. He also didn't expect that barista to assume Dave was deaf and call him attractive to a coworker.What ensues is fluffier than an angora rabbit and so sweet it'll rot your teeth.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 13
Kudos: 294





	Double Chocolate Chip Frappuccino

**Author's Note:**

> There's a very very long fic I'm working on, trust me, but I saw [this tiktok](https://vm.tiktok.com/vvtkLJ) and as CEO of nonverbal Dave you know I had to drop everything write something like this.
> 
> Purple-haired cameo is my homie Jaime who's a simp for Sollux.
> 
> Find me on Twitter @KodaOfHeart or leave a comment to fuel my soul. I love knowing what y'all think! <3

You walk into the Starbucks down the street. You’re just visiting this part of town to see your sister, so you don’t know this particular store and, more importantly, the employees don’t yet know you. But it still has the same aesthetic, same layout, and same wonderful aroma as literally every other Starbucks in America.

You approach the counter and look over the menu. You guess you could have had your drink order memorized already based on the online menu, or even ordered on the app, but you like to see what new things each individual place has to offer. It’s usually not really different store to store since this is a capitalist hellscape that thrives on uniformity and taking away individuality, but for a moment you just let yourself appreciate the charm of a normal coffeeshop interaction between customer and employee.

Well, it would be normal if you were any other customer.

“Can I help you?” comes a bored voice from behind the counter.

You snap your gaze downwards from the menu to a boy standing at the register. He’s tall and lanky, with small round glasses and two-tone hair split down the middle. He has his eyebrows raised expectantly at you. You note that this isn’t the usual friendly service you receive at cafes but you also don’t really care that much. You hate fake smiles and sunshiney attitudes more.

You hold up your index finger as the universal _hold on_ gesture and pull out your phone. You open the notes app, type on it quickly, and hold the phone up to the barista.

“ _one more minute please_ ,” the note reads.

The guy narrows his eyes to read your screen, then rolls his eyes. You take a moment to read his nametag. _Sollux._ Odd name.

“Whatever, dude. Take your precious time deciding, then let us know when you’re ready,” Sollux responds. He then turns away and says something to another barista who’s blending a drink on the back counter. You then watch as Sollux walks over to the other end of the counter and leans over it to talk to some purple-haired customer who’s typing away at a laptop. You see him smile at them, and a blush dusts their cheeks. You wonder if flirting on the job is a firable offense, or if that guy would even care if it was.

A waving hand jerks your attention back to right in front of you, where a new barista stands at the register. He’s fucking _adorable._ He’s short, probably like 5’4”, has a mop of curly dark hair on his head that frames his face perfectly, freckles for days… and he’s saying something to you.

“Are you ready to order?” he repeats. His voice is higher-pitched and sounds annoyed, but not as much as Sollux’s. You glance down at his nametag. _Karkat._

You’ve made up your mind on a drink (you decided you want something extremely sweet today), so you hold up your finger again and move to lift your phone back up to type. But Karkat stops you with a hand of his own in another familiar _hold on_ gesture. He then moves his hands around in a way that makes your day all the brighter.

“ _Do you know sign language?_ ” he signs.

Dammit, you can’t stop yourself from smiling. But you _can_ let it last only about a second.

You nod. Then your brain cells kick in and you remember you can say more than that. So you place your order in sign language and watch his eyes focus on your hands intensely. You hope you didn’t sign too fast for him. But he just nods and signs your order back to you. When he asks for your name, you almost instinctively give a bullshit name like you usually do, but your brain hits the breaks as you notice his long eyelashes and you let your real name slip instead. Karkat writes "Dave" on a cup and tells you your total. The card is handed over and swiped, the transaction is completed, and you move to stand a few feet to the side to wait for the drink. You lean on the counter still, but browse through your phone so they know you aren’t waiting to be helped.

You’re not trying to eavesdrop on the workers, but you do just happen to hear voices floating from the inside of the counter-enclosed space. Mostly about the orders, some coworker that had called off or quit or something, supplies needing to be restocked. You can't help that these baristas have loud voices.

One statement, though, catches your attention.

“I swear we get some of the most attractive fuckers walking in here.”

 _Karkat’s voice,_ you recognize. You can’t help but wonder what lucky douchebag walked in that he found so good-looking.

“And they all get the most complicated fucking orders, have you noticed that?” he continues.

Your heart picks up the pace as you recall how it took a full minute to sign out your whole order of a single drink. _Surely he can’t be talking about-?_

“I mean, seriously? A grande double chocolate chip frappuccino, extra ice, with two shots espresso, soy milk, no whip, extra mocha sauce on top? If his face wasn’t so hot I’d punch it.”

 _That’s my order that’s my fucking order_ , your mind starts repeatedly telling you. You feel the blood rush to your cheeks. You have no idea who he's talking to, especially since you don't hear a response. He's close enough to where you're standing that you conclude he must think you can't hear. That would explain why he signed back at you when you were ordering.

You wait stupidly for your name to be called, but a moment later you feel a tap on your shoulder. You spin around and see Karkat standing there holding your drink. This dude came all the way around the counter to hand you your drink because he thought you wouldn’t hear your name being called. He’s sweeter than your dumb frappuccino, which you take graciously.

“ _Thank you,_ ” you sign, before he can turn away. “ _Also, I’m mute, not deaf._ ”

You aren’t entirely sure why you felt the need to inform him of this, but it may be convenient if you ever come back here. Plus it _is_ very satisfying watching his eyes widen and his cheeks darken at this news.

“O-Oh,” he stammers. He tries to swallow but chokes on it a little. “I’m so sorry.”

Before you can assure him that he doesn’t need to apologize for anything, he turns and rushes back to behind the counter where he heads straight into the back room where you can no longer see him. You watch as Sollux looks at the swinging doors for a moment, then walks back there reluctantly. Then after a moment you just hear cackling laughter from inside that room. You chuckle to yourself and take your drink to a table, deciding to drink it in here and leech off of the free wifi for a while… and hopefully see that barista again just to watch him get all flustered.

When he does emerge from the back room, you lock eyes for a moment, then he turns away and makes a point to avoid looking in your direction.

You end up taking about an hour to finish your drink and lose yourself in dumb Twitter drama for a while. You’re only brought back to reality by a now-familiar voice.

“Hey,” Karkat says.

You look up to see the cute barista standing beside your table. He’s now apron-less and looks a little less like a cog in a capitalist machine. He rubs at the back of his neck nervously and looks all around instead of at you.

“L-Look, I’m sorry about what I said. I shouldn’t have assumed you were deaf. It was dumb and I’m just a stupid fucking guy who can’t stop running his mouth-” he cuts himself off and takes a sharp breath. “Just, I’m sorry. Please don’t report me to my manager or anything. She's is a huge bitch and I'm hanging onto this job by a thread as is. Yeah I fucking hate it here but I'm not trying to get fired, at least not because of something like this.”

You laugh in a silent exhale-through-the-nose sort of way.

 _“I’m not gonna report you, what kind of Karen do you take me for? It was…_ ” your hands stall as you search for an appropriate word, “ _flattering?_ ”

“Uh-huh, 'flattering'. Totally not sexual harassment,” he says sarcastically, running his fingers through his curls. You kind of wish you could do that to his hair.

“ _I don’t feel harassed, sexually or otherwise,_ ” you sign, then look over his outfit again. “ _Are you off?_ ”

“On my break, yeah. Figured I’d apologize before I left since I honestly thought you were waiting for me to leave so you could rat me out.”

“ _I know I’m blonde but I don’t even have the bob haircut, dude, come on._ ”

“With a drink order like that I’m surprised you've been sitting here so long, considering you probably have kids to pick up from soccer practice,” he quips.

Your mouth quirks up in a smile again watching Karkat relax a little. He then looks at the aforementioned drink, which is now just an empty plastic cup, and picks it up, walking it over to the trash can. You find it charming how he cleans up after customers even when off the clock. Or, you wonder hopelessly, is it just a gesture he does for you?

You stand and follow him to the trash can, which is near the door. He seems surprised to find that you followed him.

“ _Where are you going?_ ” you ask.

Karkat turns towards the door, and you’re quick to beat him to it and open it for him. You make a dramatic arm gesture to allow him to go first. He raises an eyebrow at you curiously, then walks through into the corridor.

“Across the street to get lunch,” he responds, holding open the next door for you in return. You nod in thanks and walk through it. “Even though the sandwiches there are way too fucking expensive, they’re worth the dent in my bank account every once in a while.”

“ _Let me buy you one then,_ ” you offer. You’re not usually the type to be upfront with your advances like this, but you’re afraid you’ll never see this perfectly adorable guy ever again so you might as well shoot your shot while the field is open and the end zone is.... ah, you’ve never been good at sports metaphors.

“What? No, no you don’t have to, I wasn’t pointing out the prices to make you pity my broke ass,” Karkat says with a frown, stumbling over his words a bit as he follows you outside. He starts walking and you keep by his side.

“ _I know. But I insist._ ”

“Why?” he asks, looking at you as if he’s expecting some bullshit reason or for you to say it’s a joke or something idiotic like that.

You were really not expecting that question, so you hesitate to respond. But he keeps looking at you, so you avert your eyes and try to figure out how to explain to him that you’re making a failing attempt at picking him up. Could you just get by with complimenting him? Would that work?

“ _I don’t know, you’re the cutest son of a bitch I’ve seen in a while so it just feels right to offer you some sort of reward for having good genes or whatever. Like how celebrities are always given free shit just because of who they are maybe attractive people should be given shit for blessing the world with their face each day. Shit dude can’t a guy just buy you lunch without it needing any other fucking reason? Also you apparently think I’m attractive too so I don’t know it seemed like the right thing to do…_ ” you trail off, resorting to just fluttering your fingers meaninglessly by your side.

When you finally look up at Karkat, he’s giving you the same wide-eyed red-faced look as before. You can’t believe this isn’t some sort of regular occurrence for him by now.

“You’re serious?”

You smile nervously and nod. Karkat takes a deep breath and stuffs his hands in his pockets as the two of you approach the deli. You search his face for an answer.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “I still doubt all of that bullshit that just spewed from your mouth - well, hands, in this case - but a free sandwich from this place is hard to turn down. So, sure, I guess.”

You smile triumphantly and open the door for him. He rolls his eyes but can’t hide his smile, and walks inside with you following close behind.

You let him order whatever he wants, even though the place is as ridiculously overpriced as he said. But the things you'd do for crushes is a neverending list of stupid, dangerous, and bank-breaking shit so you aren’t surprised at yourself. You order some chips so Karkat doesn’t have to eat alone, and you two find a booth in the back to sit and eat.

In a way of getting to know each other that you learned from your sibling, you both trade off questions in a lightning-round style, but don’t put too much pressure on having the answers be short and without follow-ups. So it’s more like the two of you just asking each other random questions. You ask how he learned sign language, he tells you that one of his good friends is autistic and prefers sign language and her sister is deaf. He asks why you wear sunglasses inside, you say your eyes are sensitive to light and save the albinism conversation for another time. You share your interests and he shares his, one of which being a passion for romance. Damn are you grateful for picking today to be a bit more traditionally romantic than the affection-phobic douchebag you can be most days.

After barely any time at all, Karkat’s alarm goes off on his phone signaling that it’s time for him to go back to work. He wraps up the rest of his sandwich and thanks you a few more times for it, each of which you wave away. You hold the door open for him again and walk him back to the coffeeshop. You stop beside the first door to say goodbye.

“ _So…_ ” you stall. You don’t know where to go from here; honestly you didn’t think you’d get this far. Is this the time to kiss him? Do you kiss on the first date? Would this even be considered a date?? “ _Have I wooed you enough to get your number? Or will you just be the cute barista I pine over forever and develop a caffeine addiction for just so I can come in and see you more?_ ”

Karkat just laughs. _It’s such a nice sound._ He then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pen. He clicks it with his right hand as he grabs your hand with his left. The sudden contact almost startles you but you know better than to flinch. His hands are very warm and soft as he holds up your hand and writes his phone number on the back of it. You find yourself weirdly out of breath just holding this dude’s hand dear god you’re a disaster.

He drops your hand when he’s done but you quickly grab his hand right back, feeling some sort of romantic urge you didn’t know you had. You hold his hand up to your lips and carefully press a kiss against his knuckles to complete this series of old-fashioned flirtatious gestures. Karkat just watches you the whole time, his eyes focused on your lips. You see him swallow and blush again as you put his hand down slowly. You two lock eyes for a moment. You’re the one who breaks first, looking away and clearing your throat awkwardly.

“ _Have a good shift,_ ” you sign, reaching for the door to open for him one more time.

“Thanks, y-you too,” he stammers. “Wait, I mean- shit. Have a good day, I guess.”

You just chuckle as he walks through the open door grumbling to himself about thinking his words through. You look down at the number on your hand, your fingertips still tingling from touching his.

You can’t wait to text that barista and start making a point of getting coffee here every day.


End file.
